


Kaleidoscope, The Colors of the World Reflecting

by InTheMix



Series: Colors of the World [10]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a sorta happy ending, Color Blindness, Drinking, Inner Dialogue, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Soulmates, seeing colors soulmate prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 07:36:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14350905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheMix/pseuds/InTheMix
Summary: It's December 26th, 1991. His empire has fallen and Russia is reflecting on what was and what could have been with his soulmate.Reading 'The Colors of the World' which is the first in the series is recommended but not necessary.Complete.





	Kaleidoscope, The Colors of the World Reflecting

**Author's Note:**

> So, uhhhhhh, here's the second RusAme fic of the series... There should be one more to round out the series but that is a long way aways.... This series is going to have about 20 fics by the time it's done and this is only the halfway point.
> 
> Anyways, I tried being more introspective with this one. A lot on Russia's thoughts and how he views things... Also, he's supposed to be a bit drunk during this so keep that in mind when reading....
> 
> I was listening to 'Tourist: A Love Song From Paris' by Jon Cozart. The themes of that song don't really match but it had the wistful tone I was going for... So if you want some background music while you read. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Kaleidoscope, The Reflection of Light

'He had been so young, so very young back then. So much time has passed, so much history in a blink of an eye, and yet- and yet not enough memories were made. So much had happened as the world in which they met was no more and yet they persisted.'

Russia's thoughts had grown maudlin as he wiled his days away in an ever emptying home. Today, was the day they were all gone for good. 'They all leave eventually; I should have known.'

He swirled the vodka in his glass as he stared at it pensive. In such stupors his thoughts would inevitably turn to his past. Today was a special day, but it was not unique. Perhaps it was unique in that it was the day where the culmination of all his failures had finally taken form. That all he had worked for turned to ash after a blaze of glory. However, the day was not unique in the path in which his drunken mind inevitably turned.

'My empire fell only to rise again.' Russia hummed wistfully to himself. It was the only noise in his otherwise silent house, with everyone gone it was no longer really a home. There were no background noises from his housemates as he no longer had any. Comforting sounds that he had taken for granted. They all went back to their own countries. There was only him. 'And now my empire will once again fall as he continues to rise.'

Russia often thought of the colony. The colony that was now an empire in all but name. It varied what he thought. His failures, his victories, what was, what could have been, but always his thoughts led to him. Always to the punchline of him being alone. Soulmates, the cosmic joke of a lie that endures. When not even colors held meaning, where fulfillment was synonymous with vibrancy but none of it held any value to him.

Russia imagines the two of them as he thinks, 'He had been so young.' His soulmate had been so young when they met.

He took another swig of his drink. Despite the tolerance he had gained from centuries of drinking, longer even than his soulmate had been alive, not even he could escape the drunkenness of a drink too many. His head spun slightly as he set his glass down.

Russia had seen the small boy first. Up on a cliff overlooking the bay his boat had been docked out of. He had gone out to take in the view and saw more then he ever thought he would see. His world shifted as he saw the boy looking down at the same sights he himself wanted to examine. When the child looked up he saw his own awe and joy reflected back in his soulmates face. Blue eyes that he would learn mirrored the sky on a clear day and hair that made the golden sun envy, were the heavens he saw that day. That day, in that moment, it was just the two of them. Twin souls reflecting their colors back upon each other. For that day it was just the two of them.

There were so many possibilities on that brief day. All roads available to them as they stretched on endlessly. When his boy was human, by god, when his boy was human, he could have given anything to be with him. To find what fate had in store for them. If he had also been human, he would have given everything. A brief tour of the New World opened a new world for the both of them. What kind of need would they fill for one another? What bond would they share as his young soulmate grew? So lost in excitement he was not prepared for when the gravity of the situation hit him.

'Grew, he would grow. He will grow and he will die.' Russia would always remember having those thoughts exactly. He would remember those thoughts for they were the thoughts that sealed their fate. Russia often reminisced on this point.

Russia was not a giving man. He was childish and selfish. What he wanted he would take before it was taken from him. This is what his childhood had taught him. He knew all of this about himself and now here was a boy made to be his. His fated right to have, and yet. Yet, for this boy who personified sunshine and the skies above, he could not take for himself.

His life as a nation and the life style that accompanied it were no good for a human. No matter what fate may have deigned it wouldn't be fair for the small boy to be forced to live such a life. He had a whole lifetime ahead of him to grow and explore this new world available to him. Russia could not take that away. He couldn't chain such a free spirit full of possibilities to a man that could never stay and be what he needed.

Decision made, Russia spent the rest of the day speaking with his soulmate. Soaking in what was sure to be their first and last day together. Discovering all of the colors the world now had to offer to them. They were so beautiful but they were only a secondary joy compared to no longer being alone on this Earth. As the day neared its end he started explaining his situation in such a way a young child would understand. He was unsure if they child understood everything but it would have to do. Hopefully the child, 'Alfred, his name is Alfred,' would remember enough to understand and move on. So, not long after the sun set in blazing reds and purples, he left Alfred in a selfless act he didn't know himself capable of. He was content in knowing that there was someone out there for him and it was only for their own good that he stayed away.

In the present Russia threw his finished glass at the wall, shattering it into many pieces. It had been so long since he recalled the name that he was given, that he had clung to for many a night for comfort.

'But was that not a lie? That was not his true name. Lies, such lies, honeyed lies from a child.' The kindness he received for his selfless actions hurt. A century later he learned his lesson. A hundred and twenty years he lived with such hope and illusions of comfort. A feeling of mourning and righteousness at his decision that transformed into sorrow and rage at his realization of betrayal.

Had he known, oh had he known, how different things may have been. The thoughts of the two of them. Such wasted time and sentiment over something that never was. 'What would have been had there not been such lies?'

Russia tried to avoid feeling such scorn at first. He and his government had already been working with the newly founded nation despite never having their representations meet. So despite personal feelings Russia continued a working relationship with the newly formed United States. He hurt but it was he who had made the decision to leave. He was the one who was at fault. 'I left him,' was the thought that kept him going, kept him from completely railing against the situation. It was what gave him hope. Russia had been the one to leave, not the other way around. There may still be a way to salvage the situation now that the colony was now a full nation.

It wasn't until after the American's civil war did they finally meet again in person. What would they say? What could they say? Russia would look back at that moment and wish he never knew the answer. He wished that the time had never come because when it did is when his heart truly broke. When his boy looked at him for the first time in almost a hundred and fifty years it was with such dispassionate eyes, with no sign of hurt or happiness crossing in those endless blue skies. It was when the heavens were apathetic to him beyond polite discussion did his heart heave with want to leave his body, that colors became truly meaningless. There was no beauty or joy to be found in something that came from a broken heart.

'The skies stretch forever, never ending and utterly indifferent even when encompassed in the soul of a man that fate decreed mine.' America had grown exactly as Russia had hoped he would on that distant day and yet, and yet. Those blue eyes he had lost himself in the face of an enraptured child held none of the same regards in the face of the man that child grew to be. 'When even the heavens didn't want you, when your greatest sacrifice and deepest regret didn't care for you, what else was there?'

At that thought Russia's heart echoed that first initial defeated wrench. Though his heart didn't come put to accompany him in his now empty house it was only due to years of experience keeping it in line. The pain was still nigh unbearable.

'Oh god, it still hurts. Every time, always.' Russia grasped at his chest, hoping that it would help, though it never did.

Not long after his heart escaped his body for the first time he decided a lie for a lie. Apathy for apathy. If that's how it was going to be then that is how it would be. For around fifty years their government had a relationship while their representatives did not. Even as they fought together in the first world war Russia kept his distance and America in turn followed suit. It wasn't until after his own revolution did things start to change again.

'So young, he was still so young even as we began our grand game.' Even as they fought over and over again he was still so young. Even as they ruled the world his soulmate still so young.

Once again Russia pondered, 'Was this our bond? Spurned rivals? Is this the bond I sealed for us on that far away day? Was this always what was meant to be? Rivals controlling the opposite ends of the Earth? Constant struggle and heartbreak our constant companions.'

Russia slumped forward, his stomach soured and a sneer forming on his lips at his own thoughts. He braced his elbows on the table as he cradled his aching head.

The world was once again just the two of them, or it had been until that afternoon when the world ended once again. 'The two of us, just the two of us on a foundation that couldn't endure. Now the ground has crumbled beneath my feet as he still stands.'

The last six decades had come and gone, and yet. He was still alone. His soulmate still a youth, barely a man, had been there at his side, at his throat, but it had been just the two of them. Heated tensions, just the two of them. The heated and needy moans, just the two of them. Rivals just taking what they wanted from each other. Dalliances with China, Vietnam, countless others, meaning nothing more than just ways to rile America up and seize an advantage. The game was always just the two of them, regardless of the collateral they created.

'God, he was still so young but so powerful as we fucked. Was this what we were meant to be?' Any contact was better than the pure apathy from before. Hatred hurt but it gave the illusion of sustainability, of prolonged interactions that could last forever. And yet, even fire eventually burns out when there was no way to add more fuel to the flame. 'Truly, was this what were meant to be? Standing against one another atop the world?'

It didn't matter much now. Tears were rolling down Russia's cheeks as his now laced fingers covered his eyes, still supporting his head. Soft sobs slowly grew louder as his union dissolved around him, no longer even able to rival his soulmate. His soulmate who would now stand atop the world alone.

'I can't even be this to him.' Russia was not loved, and now he wasn't going to be the focus of America's hatred, his most pressing rival. With time surely that heated and tense passion will turn elsewhere now that he was done. Russia tensed at the thought of those eyes glancing at him apathetically once more. He knew this day was coming for years and yet. There always seemed to be an, 'and yet,' and yet. The day had come.

The phone rang. The trill was harsh to his ears. He ignored it but it kept ringing. He finally gathered some sense of balance as he stood and walked to his phone with unsteady legs. His head began to swim as he moved but he kept at it. The ringing piercing his ears was much worse than any vertigo movement had caused. He tried to avoid the glass shards as best he could before reaching his phone. Finally, he answered.

"Da? Who is calling me?" His words slurred. When he heard who answered his back straightened as he started to sober up, adrenaline coursing through his system.

"Russia?" Was the uncertain reply he received.

He would know that voice anywhere. He knew it when it was the high chirp of a child excited to revel in a bright new world bursting with light. He knew it when it was the uncertain voice of a young nation trying to carve his place amongst empires. He knew that voice when it was the authoritative general in a trench, ordering his men to what would inevitably be their death. He knew that voice when it was a superpower in the middle of overwhelming passion with the enemy, as the moans became to much to hold in despite the danger of being caught. And now, now he knew that voice as a victor unsure of what they were going to do next.

"What do you want America? Called to gloat?" Russia asked. For the first time in the last sixty years there was no venom in his voice when addressing his soulmate, only slurred defeat.

"No! No." America was startled but continued, "I called to offer my sympathies. I'm not apologizing but I just-" America seemed lost for words, searching for the impossible. "I- I don't- I mean- I'm not sorry about what happened but at the same time I am… So yeah."

"Is that all America? I don't need false sympathies from some misplaced sense of chivalry." The venom started to leak in.

"It's not that. No, I just, no it's not that."

"Then what is it?" Russia's growing sense of hostility died back down at America's tone. It had been genuine. He didn't think America called to gloat.

"I think I called to say thank you?" America's voice turned the statement into a question.

"Thank you? For what? Losing? I'm hanging up if you are just calling to-"

"No! Not for that either!" America startled at Russia's words as if he hadn't realized that that's what it would seem like to the other. To be fair it probably wasn't, America could not read the room half the time.

"Then what?" Russia asked, half curious and half wary. He didn't have the heart or mind to deal with this, with America of all people, at the moment. Already, this conversation had worn down what little emotional control he had left.

"For-" America took in a deep breath, "-For being you."

"What?" Was he acknowledging their bond now? Why now? Russia's heart clenched with traitorous hope he didn't even know remained.

"I don't think I would have become who I am today without you. This last century I've changed and grown in ways I never thought I could and you were a big part of that. You pushed me in both good and bad ways and I grew to be me in response.

"I know it's probably not what you want to hear, god, especially not now, but I felt like I had to call you. I couldn't rest until I let you know how grateful I am to you. It's messed up and-and- and- it's wrong to do this to you now but I just-" America sounded like he was starting to lose control of himself and surely Russia would be soon to follow if that happened so he cut him off.

"Okay." The abruptness shook America out of his spiral.

"Just okay?"

"Da." It was more than okay as Russia tried to grab any semblance of comfort, even if it was from his supposed enemy, 'well former enemy now,' he supposed. "America, you should go now."

He was running away again but he couldn't handle much more despite how much he was starting to want to linger. After being alone for so long and desperately wanting for someone, anyone, to show him some regard, he couldn't stand being around him right now. Not when he craved more and yet ached at the thought of where this conversation might go. Not now.

"Alright, take care of yourself. I hope one day we can be friends."

"Da, I would that I think, but, not right now, America," Russia said softly. America had not acknowledged their bond but it was better than nothing.

"Alfred," America said before continuing, "I don't think I ever told you my human name. One day I hope we'll be friends and when that day comes you can call me Alfred."

Russia drew in a sharp breath at that. Of course he already knew that name.

"So goodbye for now."

"Goodbye, America."

Russia hung the phone up gently and made his was to his kitchen in a daze. He was careful to avoid the glass shards once again as he made his way. He was in a state of turmoil. Too much had happened that day, too many thoughts, too many emotions. His heart had been so heavy earlier, mere moments ago, but now... Now, he didn't know how he felt but it was better than he had felt in a long while. He still hurt but it no longer felt like the end of the world. The silent dread that had been holding onto him for an untold amount of time was finally releasing its tendrils on his heart just a bit.

He couldn't begin to understand what was happening anymore as he filled a glass with water in his kitchen sink. After retrieving his prize, he made his way to his bedroom. Once there he gently put the full glass on his bedside table for the morning. After putting down his glass he just stared for a moment.

His world was ending once again. However, this time he noticed for the first time in a long time, that his sheets were a pretty shade of yellow and his walls a calming blue. His furniture was a rich dark brown and the mirror showed him he had light purple eyes. His world was changing around him and yet-


End file.
